Cut Me Free

"Do whatever you want!" Rachel Jackman snapped, anger and impatience clear in her voice. "Just don't regret it and come crying back to beg me!"

The call was abruptly cut off the next second.

Would I regret it? Never.

The only thing I regretted was being so foolish back then. I hated that I had let myself, once a decisive force in the business world, put up with years of humiliation.

-

I was packing my things when Charlie Stewart walked in.

He was Rachel's current assistant, and he was also the man she had once loved most.

"Zander, I'm sorry. I went to your house that day to deliver some documents to Ms. Jackman," he said. "She noticed the stubble on my chin and borrowed one of your razor blades for me.

"I never thought it would make you misunderstand. Please don't divorce her. Otherwise, I'll never clear my name."

I listened to his half-hearted apology, and my lips curled up into a mocking smile.

"If I don't divorce her, how would I make room for you?" I asked.

Charlie's tone turned anxious. "Zander, how could you say that? I never wanted to come between you and Ms. Jackman. I–"

I cut him off. "You never wanted to, or you can't?"

Back then, the Jackmans chose a husband for Rachel from the sons of Belmont's elite families. Charlie, the Stewarts' illegitimate son, was the first one they ruled out.

Seven years later, the Stewart family had long gone bankrupt. When Charlie came back from overseas, the only way he could get close to Rachel was as her assistant.

Charlie sounded even more anxious. "If you don't believe me, then I'll just quit. That should be enough, right?"

"Do whatever you want!" I threw Rachel's words back at him, then turned away and ignored him.

In the two years since Charlie joined the company, I had asked Rachel for a divorce as many times as he had threatened to quit.

Now that Rachel and I were really getting a divorce, he was still using the same trick to win sympathy.

Rachel had long grown tired of my jealousy, yet she still fell for every one of his innocent acts.

"Zander, I'm begging you. Please don't leave. Don't divorce Ms. Jackman." He looked ready to cry as he grabbed my arm and shook it, acting like the heartbroken hero of some melodrama.

"Zander, hit me if it will make you feel better." As he spoke, he grabbed my hand and pulled it toward his face.

I frowned at his pathetic act and silently counted down. "Ten, nine, eight…"

Before I reached seven, Rachel rushed over. "Stop!"

She shouted angrily at me, "Zander, you've gone too far! Charlie was our classmate. How could you hit him?"

Just like every other time, Rachel showed up at the perfect moment and blamed me without asking what had happened.

I shook my head and smiled bitterly. She had perfected her act of rushing to Charlie's defense.

I set my luggage down and slowly got to my feet.

I turned to Rachel first and said, "If you can't see what's right in front of you, maybe you should get your eyes checked.

"Hit him? I wouldn't want to dirty my hands."

"You…" My words left her speechless.

Then I turned to Charlie. "If I remember right, I never heard a knock, and I never got up to open the door."

I looked him straight in the eye. "So tell me. How did you get in?"

His face turned pale, and he almost lost his balance. A slender arm caught him around the waist.